


Mark Me With Your Pain

by Bluerain1984



Series: Strangers in a Strange Land [2]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcoholism, And a lot of healing, Biting, Canon Trans Character, Damien Needs A Hug, Drunk confessions, Heavy Petting, M/M, Masochism, Past Relationship(s), Robert is a good man, Self Esteem Issues, past adultery, sorta - Freeform, way too much drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerain1984/pseuds/Bluerain1984
Summary: “Bite me,” Robert repeated. He took his jacket off, tossed it toward the living room, then he pulled at the collar of his shirt. He pointed at the space between his shoulder and his neck. “Right here. If you leave normal teeth marks, I’ll believe you’re not a vampire. But the second I feel fangs go through, I’m gonna have to do what I gotta to protect the neighborhood.”Damien still looked confused, but he didn’t disagree yet. Robert wondered if he thought he was actually serious. Robert was about to go into the living room to get his sofa ready for its new occupant when Damien said, “Sure.”Or: What really happened after Robert took Damien home.





	Mark Me With Your Pain

**Author's Note:**

> It was demanded, and thus it's given: a follow-up. Not quite a sequel, but something to whet the appetite and explain where all this began.

“ONE MORE!”

Robert was a man who liked his drink. Hell, Jack Daniels was practically his lover, though white zinfandel was his piece on the side (not that many knew that). And beer was satisfactory when he couldn’t get hold of anything else, so, suffice to say, he loved to drink. Of late he’d been attempting to cut it back, with a little inspiration from his newest partner in crime, but sometimes he still liked to party.

Tonight was…well, he was actually going light tonight. It was the current addition to his and Mary’s bar-hopping that had him questioning if he should cut back some more. Damien Bloodmarch sat next to him at Jim and Kim’s, on their eighth shot together, and he looked as if he’d fall over if someone breathed at him. Yet the man, dressed in full period dress, cape included, was demand another shot.

Mary set her wine glass down on the bar top, and attempted to wedge herself underneath Damien’s right arm. “Dames,” she said, “You’re wasted. C’mon, I’m takin’ you home.”

“No!” Damien protested, his voice’s pitch fluctuating in his protest. “No, dearest M-Mary, not yet.” Robert didn’t know if it was funny or pitiful. He was leaning more onto the pitiful side.

So was Mary, by the look on her face. “Dames, honey, you’re gonna get sick. How about I take you to my place? The rec-room’s couch folds out.” Damien gave her a look that said he wasn’t happy about that option. And truth be told, neither was Robert. He knew all about that rec-room couch, and some of the shit he’d done on it personally.  Hell, there was a lot he’d done in Mary’s house, with and without her knowledge. He grunted. Dammit to hell, thinking about that stuff had him remembering some of the things that he and Joseph used to do when they were both drunk off their asses. Fond yet also rather bitter memories, those were.

He pushed them aside, though, as he watched Damien continue to beg for more drinks while Mary attempted to talk sense into him. Shit. This went to full blown pathetic.

“I’ll take him back to his place,” Robert finally said as he fished out his cash and set that down for Neil to swipe up. “He’d probably get lost or something.”

“You sure?” Mary was half-passing Damien over even as she asked.

“Yeah, s’fine,” Robert assured her. “Just make sure you get home all right, Lady.”

“I’m a big girl,” Mary retorted, smirking. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Whatever,” Robert said as he hefted Damien a bit onto his shoulders. “Call me if you need someone to walk with who looks scary.”

So it was that Robert was soon partially dragging a man who looked like he should be able to turn into a bat down the street to their little neighborhood. From what Robert could remember about Damien, he wasn’t the type of guy to get himself this drunk, or be so easy to convince into taking shots the way he had. What was goin’ on in his head? Turned out he didn’t have to wait too long to know why. They entered the round-about pavement that made up the street of the cul-de-sac, and as Robert’s next door neighbor’s place came into view, Damien’s head came up, and the man shouted, “CHURLISH RAKE!”

“What?” Robert asked.

“That—that man,” Damien pointed at the house beside Robert’s. “Is a rogue and a scoundrel! Vex- Vexing Incubus of the worst sort!”

“Sure you got the right house?” Robert asked him.

“He stole my heart!” declared Damien. “Swept in with his—his humor and his word jumbles, and his sunflowers and he—he,” Damien’s voice skipped. He made a noise that seemed to come from his throat. Wait a sec, was he crying? Shit, he was. Damien threw his free arm over his face. “Only to pledge himself to Craig Cahn! Does a ‘Bro’ have greater right than one who knows the depth of your soul? Did our correspondence mean so little?!”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Robert grumbled. “I thought vampires were supposed to be dignified.” Damien was shouting and making too much damn noise this late at night, and Robert didn’t feel like getting the cops called for ‘disturbing the peace,’ or putting his pal on the spot while Damien was like this. He knew the man prided himself on his little ‘goth prince of darkness’ image.

However, he wasn’t expecting Damien to look at him and yell, “I’m not a vampire!!”

“Sure,” Robert said, now focusing on getting them inside somewhere. His own place was closer than Damien’s gargoyle-infested haunt. With Damien still draped on one side of his body, Robert had to fish his keys out of his jacket one handed. “Sure, you’re not, and the Dover Ghost likes to give me blow jobs.”

“I’m not,” Damien whined as he batted at Robert’s chest. Damn, the man was weak as a kitten or what? “I’m not a vampire! Vampires are scary, and they—they drink blood. I hate blood. I’m a vegetarian.”

That made Robert laugh. Fuck, the dude couldn’t handle red meat and yet he dressed like he’d raided Bela Lugosi’s closet? Finally getting his door open, Robert used his feet to shuffle them in and get the door mostly closed. “Yeah, whatever Lestat, I’m pretty sure you’re a member of the undead.”

“I g—go out in the day,” Damien added.

“That ‘daylight’ shit was made up when the movie ‘Nosferatu’ came out; real vampires can walk around in daylight and some can even touch crosses or go into churches.” He propped Damien against the wall as he shut the door behind them, locking it up again. “I don’t put much stock in the sun and shit.”

“I’ll prove it,” Damien said, his mouth turned down in a pout. “I’ll prove I’m not a vampire. Any way you want me to.”

That was…something dangerous for someone to say. Robert glanced at the other man, and considered various ways he could make sure his neighbor wasn’t a blood-sucker. “Bite me.”

Damien’s eyebrows came together as he stared at Robert in obvious confusion. “What?”

“Bite me,” Robert repeated. He took his jacket off, tossed it toward the living room, then he pulled at the collar of his shirt. He pointed at the space between his shoulder and his neck. “Right here. If you leave normal teeth marks, I’ll believe you’re not a vampire. But the second I feel fangs go through, I’m gonna have to do what I gotta to protect the neighborhood.”

Damien still looked confused, but he didn’t disagree yet. Robert wondered if he thought he was actually serious. Robert was about to go into the living room to get his sofa ready for its new occupant when Damien said, “Sure.”

Robert stopped in his tracks and turned back around. “Say what?”

“Sssure,” Damien slurred. He pushed himself off the wall, nearly stumbled, then caught himself and pointed at Robert. “I’ll bite you! And—and I’ll prove I’m not a vampire.” Hearing it from him made the older man laugh again.

“Jesus, you really are drunk as hell, aren’t you?” Robert crossed back over to Damien, to spare him from possibly tripping over his cape. “Okay, then, let’s get this done, Bloodmarch.” Robert placed one hand on Damien’s waist to pull him over, while he used the other to tug his shirt collar away to reveal his brown skin. “Bon appetite.”

Damien didn’t move in right away. He eyeballed it a bit, as if determining where he was going to do it within the offered span of skin. When he finally did bite down, there was a small bit of pressure. Robert grunted a bit. He figured that was all the man could do. “What, you’re not even trying,” Robert said. “You tryin’ to bullshit me, Prince of Darkness? Do it harder.” He felt Damien’s body stiffen against him before he got what he asked for. The bite wasn’t so much hard as, well, without warning, the well-dressed man bit down into him as if he was actually going to eat him. The sudden pain of it had Robert gasping and his head beginning to swim. That pain, the kind he hadn’t had inflicted on him in a long while, went right down to his groin faster than a bullet fired out of a gun. Robert grabbed both hands at Damien, the one of his waist bunching at the man’s vest, while the other grabbed at his hair. He couldn’t breathe.

It took Damien’s hands moving to caress at his sides to wake Robert up from his haze of pain. He felt the pale hands wander downward, then push at his shirt, moving it up until cool fingertips touched his hot skin. Not good. Not good, not good; hadn’t he learned his lesson about messin’ around with a neighbor? Yet he didn’t stop Damien from continuing to ravage his neck, nor did he stop those fingers, long and soft and searching, from dipping down to the front of his jeans to press against the bulge of his cock. A noise finally broke the silence in the room, and it came from Robert’s mouth, followed by the pronouncement, “Fuck!” as he pressed his hips into Damien’s hands.

Damien lifted his head from Robert’s neck at last. He could feel spit cooling on the spot, even as the pain of the bite continued to throb in tune with his increasing heartbeat. They looked at one another. Damien’s face was so soft, so open, so wanting… It called to something inside of Robert at that moment that nothing else had for a very, very long time. They shouldn’t do this. He licked his mouth. This was beyond a bad idea. But even with that on his mind, Damien was closing the gap between them, his mouth open, and his breath hot against Robert’s lips.

He was caught off guard by Damien violently jerking away and covering his mouth. Oh boy. With the mood instantly killed, Robert grabbed Damien by the shoulders to take him to the kitchen before he could spew onto his carpet. He probably could have stood to keep his place in better cleanliness, but he didn’t go around puking everywhere. Anymore. While Damien retched over the sink, Robert kept the other man’s long, black hair out of the way. It was surprising how soft it was, actually. Eventually when the dry-heaving stopped, Robert helped Damien stand again, and inspected him. In spite of their best efforts, Damien had gotten some on his fancy vest and shirt, and even some on his own jeans.

“Well, pal, nothing to do but get this all off.” He guided Damien, who seemed to be in a daze, up the stairs to his bedroom. Robert kicked off his boots and chucked off his jeans, first, then turned and started fiddling around with all the buttons and ties of Damien’s outfit. Mid-way through it all, Damien’s hands rose up and he seemed to realize they were undressing, at least, so he started taking off the whole thing, albeit in a less graceful manner than Robert was sure he used when putting the get-up on. Once Damien was down to his skivvies, Robert attempted to get at the top that the pale man wore, only for Damien to grab his hands and stop him.

“N-Not that.” It was the first he’d spoken since he’d agreed to bite Robert. “I—I don’t…I don’t take that off for anyone…”

“Okay,” Robert said. “If that’s how you go.” He was about to grab up their things when he felt Damien grab onto him and begin pressing kisses against his jawline. “Yeah, no,” Robert said as he gently pushed Damien off and set him on the bed. “Your breath reeks, and I’m not gonna cross that line. Wait there.” He took all their clothes down, stopping only to check Damien’s clothes to see if there were specific washing instructions or something, before he tossed it all into a load and started it up. As he returned, a glass of water in hand, he could hear…Sobbing? Damn it.

He walked in and saw Damien, stretched out on his bed, arms over his face as he cried.

“Hey,” he walked over and sat at the foot of his bed. “Hey, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

“How would you know?” demanded Damien. “You’re-You’re not like me! You’re… Your body’s perfect and it’s... Everyone thinks you’re mysterious. Dangerous. Cool and sexy. What am I? I’m the _**freak**_ that lives in the c-creepy house. I’ll never be like you. Or like Craig, who’s svelte and friendly and adored! No one…” his voice went softer steadily until he practically whispered, “No one will want me.”

Hell. Robert eased himself over, moving up and leaning over Damien until they were face to face. He kept himself propped up on one arm, though, to look down at the man, who began to lower his arms to look at him again. Damien’s eyes were now bloodshot, swollen, eyeliner and mascara smeared in wet streaks down red, splotched cheeks.

“You’re gorgeous,” Robert said to him. The look Damien gave showed he clearly did not believe him. “I mean that, you’re gorgeous. You wear make-up better than most of the women I know. Everything you wear shows off your body—which is actually pretty damn built, sweetheart, trust me. You don’t use even a quarter of the strength I know you’ve got in you.”

Damien sniffled. Honest to God sniffled and it made something in Robert sting. “You don’t want me,” the other man said.

Robert couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. He was soft now, but he’d been hard just a few minutes ago. Wasn’t that enough? He dropped down until his chest was pressed to Damien’s, and put his lips to the man’s ear. “The only reason I’m not in you right now, baby, is because you’re drunk. And you’re hurtin’. You’d say yes to just about anythin’ right now, and that’s not fun for anybody with an ounce of decency in ‘em. If I have you,” he moved his mouth to place it near Damien’s temple. “When I have you… I want you sober. And needin’ me more than anyone else.” He pulled back, then, to see a look of awe on Damien’s face. And there was that sting again. A man could fall to his knees for a look like that. Robert raised his hand up and moved a few strands of hair out of Damien’s face, to get a better look at that expression.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be here.” He rolled off the younger man and started to get off the bed, only to have his sleeve grabbed between two black-nailed fingers.

“Stay?”

How could he say no? Robert stretched out beside Damien, one arm under his head while he used the other to take hold of Damien’s hand. He squeezed at the fingers in his. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Damien didn’t speak again. He shut his eyes and it wasn’t long before Robert could tell he was sleep. Robert released Damien’s now limp hand from his grasp, got up, and pulled his sheets over the man. Though he was still sorely tempted to stay upstairs with Damien, he decided he’d let Betsy in from the back yard and sleep downstairs with her, tonight.

There would always be other nights. He knew that as he started to rub at the aching bite on him. Oh yeah. Come hell or high water, he’d make sure there were other nights with this man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again all for the info and the feedback from the first fic! I hope for the same courtesy for this one, and any subsequent pieces that will come along for this series. Stories may be quick in coming, or take a while. It all depends.
> 
> Again, kudos are loved, comments are greatly appreciated! Please, be constructive.


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